


Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

by lettersandsodas



Category: Scrubs
Genre: Christmas, F/F, PWP, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersandsodas/pseuds/lettersandsodas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot and Jordan spend Christmas Eve together. Basically, it's Christmas porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Scrubs.

Elliot is really good at going down on women.

It surprised Jordan, and Jordan's not the type to get surprised about that kind of thing. In order to be surprised, she'd have to have some preconceived notion of what the person she's sleeping with should be like or, at very least, some kind of general interest in them as an individual. And she usually doesn't have that. Whomever she's fucking at the moment is just a means to an end. Sometimes, it's a crappy end. Sometimes, it's no end at all. Either way, she doesn't really spend a lot of time pondering how it reflects on them as a human. She's neutral about them. Disinterested. Uninterested. She'd be Switzerland, if Switzerland expressed neutrality by indiscriminately destroying _everyone_.

But, please, how could she not be surprised by that one? Elliot "I Trip Over My Own Feet Sometimes" Reid, Little Miss "I Can't Even Call _Those Parts_ by Their Proper Name or Look at Pictures of Them" gives the best head of anyone Jordan has ever been with. Eagerly.

That explains why words totally fail her when she strolls into the bedroom to announce that Santa Watch '07 has officially ended, only to be greeted by the sight of Elliot wearing nothing but a red silk negligee, a Santa hat, and that mischievous smile she gets when she's about to suggest something that will earn them both a top spot on the Naughty List. Jordan freezes in the doorway, quirks an eyebrow. She will never admit it, ever, but the vision of Elliot lounging casually on the sheets, hat cocked off to the side, faux innocent pout firmly in place, is positively pornographic in the best possible way. Jordan gets wet just looking at her.

"Is Jack asleep?" Elliot asks, almost casually.

Jordan doesn't answer. She lets herself take in the scene. The negligee has white faux fur trim around the bottom, right where it rests on the very tops of Elliot's thighs, and the red fabric hugs her in all the right places. Jordan's kind of impressed, actually, even though the whole look is a little more holiday spirit-y than she would have opted for. The fact that she's admiring it so intensely is also making Elliot a little uncomfortable, which is always an added bonus. She can barely contain the smirk that threatens to erupt when she sees her squirm a little.

"Were you planning on answering?" Elliot asks, but her voice betrays a hint of nervousness. "Or closing the door? Or not staring at me like that?"

"Lingerie and a Santa hat says a lot of things, Stick, but 'don't stare at me' isn't one of them," Jordan says as she steps inside and locks the door behind her. She ignores the brief glare Elliot shoots her and unties her robe. She lets it slide from her shoulders and pool at her feet before she saunters forward and climbs onto the edge of the bed.

Elliot tears her eyes away from her nude form and glances nervously at the door. "How asleep is he?" She's always paranoid that Jack will walk in and see them one of these days. Like _that's_ what's going to really screw him up.

"Pretty." Jordan stalks up the bed and settles on top of Elliot, trying not to breathe sharply at the feel of cold silk on her skin. "You'll just have to be quiet." Her voice is low, gravelly, and she leans down to press her lips to the tender spot just under Elliot's ear before whispering, "Think you can manage that, Stick?"

Jordan can feel the way Elliot shudders a little at her words, and she smiles to herself at just how effortless it can be sometimes. A few words spoken in just the right tone, at just the right volume against the shell of her ear, and it's all over. So easy to manipulate.

Usually, at least. Tonight, apparently, Elliot's full of surprises, and Jordan barely has time to register the feeling of strong thighs wrapping around her hips before she finds herself with back against the mattress. Elliot straddles her, the nightie riding up high on her hips, and flashes a smug look because she managed that little trick without even losing the hat. As much as Jordan doesn't really want to admit it, she thinks as she watches Elliot's finger trace a line from her clavicle to her belly, she does have some begrudging admiration for the girl's' physical prowess. Her thighs are like a vice.

"I'm not going to be the one making the noise," Elliot says before flashing a seductive smile and leaning down to take an erect nipple into her mouth. She's so friggin' cold _everywhere_ , but, god, her mouth is so warm. Jordan can't suppress the moan that rises in her throat as she feels Elliot's tongue curl around her, and she hates it. She hates losing control that way. As revenge, she arches up, presses her thigh hard between Elliot's legs. Elliot parries by groaning around her nipple and worrying it with her teeth, and Jordan almost resigns herself to not winning for the night. Almost.

"Like that, huh?" Elliot murmurs. She moves to the other breast, laving it with her tongue and letting the fluffy white ball of that ridiculous Santa cap tickle Jordan's side. Jordan shoots a half-hearted death glare down at her (and, really, her half-hearted death glare is better than most people could do if they were really trying), but Elliot doesn't notice. Her eyes are closed, and she letting out these breathy little sounds as sucks, nips, licks, and grinds down on Jordan's leg.

It feels obscenely good—Elliot's mouth and the fact that she's so fucking hot and wet against Jordan's thigh—but Jordan needs more, and she doesn't hesitate to say so.

"Elliot," she rasps. She moves a hand up to push at Elliot's shoulder insistently, and Elliot lifts her head and blows a steady stream of cool air over her breast. This time, it's Jordan's turn to get a chill.

The corners of Elliot's mouth curl, all innocence and slyness. "Yes?"

"Down."

It's abrupt and gruff, and Elliot rolls her eyes a little but doesn't argue. She slides down Jordan's body, letting the softness of the material tease the soft flesh of Jordan's belly, and settles between her legs. The hat's white ball skims over the inner part of Jordan's thigh, and she finds herself shivering again when she feels Elliot's breath blow hot against her.

This is what makes Jordan suspect that Elliot enjoys this more than she or anyone else would ever guess: Jordan is really, really impatient about pretty much everything, but she doesn't even have time to make a bitchy comment about hurrying up. Elliot just leans forward all of a sudden and runs her tongue all along the smooth flesh (and it is smooth. Jordan shells out a ridiculous amount of money for those Brazilians, thank you very much) for a few moments and then uses the tip to part her. She moans a little when she realizes how wet Jordan is—how wet she's made her—and, if Jordan was anyone other than herself, she'd probably be embarrassed because she is really, really turned on.

She's not going to get any relief from that any time soon, if the way Elliot's tonguing her all slow and teasing is any indication. Hands settle cold against her thighs, and Jordan's hips jolt up, pressing her hard against Elliot's mouth. Elliot will have none of it.

"Ah, ah." She pulls back and stares up at Jordan, willing her to look at her, to watch as she flicks her tongue too lightly over her clit. Jordan does, but she can't maintain the eye contact. It's a little too much, too intimate.

It doesn't matter. Elliot lets her eyes drift closed as she moves her tongue more firmly, presses it into Jordan. Her hands are warmer now, and they're rubbing Jordan's legs in a steady rhythm, up and down, up and down, mimicking the motion she's starting with her mouth. It's so perfectly in rhythm that Jordan sort of wonders if Elliot's following a tune in her head—she was a marching band geek and she _would_ be the type to give head to the beat of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" or something idiotic like that—but she doesn't dwell on it. Elliot is driving her crazy enough with the leisurely way she's licking, dipping into her and then lazily licking up to her clit. She doesn't need to be thinking of anything even tangentially related to baby Jesus or Elliot in band gear at the moment.

"Fuck," she pants as she feels the heat of Elliot's tongue push inside her. Elliot starts a slow, steady rhythm and makes these contented little sounds, and Jordan likes that she's enjoying herself. But, _christ_ , there's only so much of this that she can take before she starts squirming, and squirming is totally unacceptable.

Luckily, she knows just what to do to get this show on the road. Hell, anyone that paid attention to Elliot for more than five seconds would know how. Elliot's a sucker for approval. Give her a little praise, and she'll go to the ends of the earth to get more. This is doubly true, Jordan has learned, when the approval in question is of the raunchy, dirty talk variety. And Jordan is pretty much the queen of that kind of thing, so she's more than happy to oblige. Especially when it benefits her.

"Elliot," she moans. It's breathy and desperate sounding, and, disgustingly, she doesn't even really have to try to make it that way. She swears she can feel Elliot smile against her as she pushes her tongue in deeper, curls it just perfectly. "Oh, right there."

Jordan lets a hand drift down to Elliot's head. She likes to feel the fine blonde hair curled cool around her fingers, but the stupid Santa hat is in the way. So, as nice as the visual is, she yanks it off and tosses it across the room. Elliot frowns and looks like she might say something, but Jordan tangles her fingers in her hair before she has the chance.

"Shhh," she whispers as she tugs a little, urging Elliot up. She takes the hint without protest and wraps her lips around Jordan's clit, sucks gently as Jordan hisses and tries to keep her hips from bucking. "Good girl," she rasps, and looks down to see Elliot pressing her hips into the mattress. She smirks ( _so easy_ ) and lets her eyes drift shut again. "Very good girl."

Jordan wishes she could make this last. It's not every day you come across someone who actually seems to _like_ giving you head enough that they don't rush it, and she knows she should be taking advantage of it. She's normally really good at taking advantage of things (and people), but, fuck, Elliot knows what she's doing. It's not long at all before Jordan's holding Elliot in place with a firm hand on her head and grinding herself against her mouth, and, while she would really like to hold off, she really, really needs to come.

She starts to say as much, but she doesn't have to. Elliot knows her. Elliot knows just when to suck, just when to lick, just when to flatten her tongue and lave it wet and firm across her clit, and she does all of those things until Jordan hip's are arching off the bed and she's letting out a strangled little cry.

Elliot coaxes her down, waits until the sharp thrusts turn into gentle rocking, and then Jordan feels her weight leave the bed. She doesn't even have to open her eyes to know she's headed for the bathroom. Elliot likes being on the giving end of things, but she's also total germophobe who can't stand feeling _not clean_ for any length of time. Jordan should probably be kind of offended about the implications, but who has time? Besides, it saves her from cuddling.

She hears Elliot murmur something indistinct from behind the partially closed bathroom door and rolls her eyes. "If you think I can hear you, you're even more delusional that I thought," she calls.

Elliot pokes her head out and grins. "I said, 'I got you a present.' Look under the bed."

Jordan frowns. "Presents are tomorrow morning, or were you not listening when we went over that earlier?"

"Yee-ah," Elliot says, still grinning. "I don't think you want to save this one for when JD, Perry, and the kids are around."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title is funny now, no?

"Well?" Elliot asks as she emerges from the bathroom. She's still wearing the holiday lingerie, which is, of course, a distraction. But she looks so fresh-faced and cheery that Jordan can't resist toying with her a little for funsies.

"Well what?" She raises an eyebrow and puts on her best 'get to the point' look, even though she knows exactly what Elliot means.

Elliot frowns. "The present," she prompts, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I told you it was under the bed."

"Yes," Jordan replies. "You did mention that it was _all the way_ under the bed."

Elliot sighs. "Seriously?"

Jordan just stares back at her until she finally rolls her eyes crouches to retrieve the present herself. After a few moments of fumbling, she mutters a triumphant, "Ah-hah!" and then slams her head hard against the sideboard as she rises.

"See?" Jordan says, inspecting her nails and smirking as Elliot rubs her crown and winces. "Imagine how much worse your night would have been if _I_ had been the one to do that."

Elliot glares up at her. "Could you be any more insensitive?"

"Good question. You know, sometimes I surprise even myself."

"Haha," Elliot snaps, but there's no bitterness in her voice. Actually, she has that amused expression that she gets when Jordan's being mean but harmless. It's sort of a fond smile, Jordan thinks, and it sparks a sudden diffusion of warmth in her chest and a very unwelcome little twist in her gut. She feels her own smile broaden automatically before she remembers to override it, and she wonders if it's possible to develop fluffy feelings for someone _because_ she accepts that you'll never have fluffy feelings for her (or anyone else). Probaby not. Or maybe. Either way, she doesn't particular feel like considering it. There lies confusion and icky emotional crap.

Instead, she grabs the box. Her first impulse is to tear the paper away quickly because, hello, she and patience? Not exactly BFFs, as Elliot would say. But she knows how excited Elliot is for her to open it—can see it in the way she learns forward a little, eyes shining with eagerness—so she does the exact opposite. Even though she _hates_ when her mother does this, she pries the tape off one corner carefully and slowly, agonizingly slowly, and peels back the paper so meticulously that you'd think she was saving it for something. A minute later, she's revealed enough of the box to know that it's plain—no clues as to what's inside—so she figures she can draw this out for at least another five if she really wants to. She feels the corners of her lips curl into a wicked little grin.

But, again, Elliot surprises her sometimes. "Oh, just frickin' open it already!" she screeches. She yanks the box out of Jordan's hands and rips the wrapping off quickly. She even takes the top mostly off, leaves it balancing precariously as she shoves it back at Jordan. "There. Look."

Ah, well. It was fun while it lasted. Jordan peaks inside the box and raises her eyebrows. Ah. So that's why Elliot's so impatient.

"Why, Elliot," she murmurs, her tone amused as she lifts the strap-on out of the package. Green. With glitter. Elliot _would_ buy a dildo with glitter. "I'm actually surprised."

"Why?" she scoffs. She's trying to be nonchalant about it, but Jordan catches the nervous edge in her voice. "It's not like we don't do a bunch of other crazy stuff all the time."

"Mm," she agrees. "Still. You actually had to buy this from somewhere." She pictures Elliot in sunglasses and a matching fedora and overcoat glancing both ways before slipping into some store called 'Night Dreams' or 'Late Nite Video.' "I'm impressed."

"Don't be." Elliot waves dismissively. "I bought it online. They charged it to some dummy company on my credit card _and_ they shipped it in the exact box it's in now, so I haven't had to touch it or anything." She sounds so pleased with herself when she says it that Jordan can't resist rolling her eyes.

"So, let me get this straight. You bought a strap-on dildo that you _don't want to touch_. Correct me if I'm wrong—and I'm not, by the way—but I'm sensing that there might be a problem there, Blondie."

"I know, I know," Elliot blushes. "It's not like I don't want to touch it, although it is kind of weird. I mean, like, with my hands when it's detached and lying there like that…" Her eyes meet Jordan's, and she hesitates. "But, sometimes, I think of you, with that, and it just…" She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and lets out this breathy little moan that Jordan feels right between her legs.

And, just like that, the mental picture of Elliot acting like purchasing a dildo is some kind of super-secret spy mission is replaced by a much more pleasant set of images. Elliot underneath her, bucking and moaning and digging her heels into the backs of Jordan's legs. Her fingernails leaving perfect little crescents on Elliot's hips as Elliot grinds against her, presses her head back hard against the pillows. Jordan has always kind of wanted a cock—or at least the power that came with having one—and the idea of taking Elliot _that_ way, of tossing her back onto the bed and making her work for it is…appealing.

But not tonight. At least not like that because, quite frankly, Elliot has zero ability to shut the hell up during sex. Usually, it doesn't really matter; Jordan kind of likes it, and the kids sleep so deeply that not even the apocalypse or, worse, Jordan's mother yelling could wake them. But tonight is Christmas Eve. The kids get excited about presents, and excitement means light sleep. It's not like Jordan thinks they would be severely and irrevocably damaged if they were to accidentally walk in on something. (Elliot was, of course. But, come on, her parents were having multiple affairs with working class people. That probably had a lot to do with the trauma. Jordan walked in on her parents when she was seven, and she turned out fine, right?) All the same, she'd much rather Jack and little JD go their entire lives without ever hearing about Mexican apple thieves or baby making fantasies.

She reaches forward and tangles her fingers in Elliot's hair, pulling her forward and pressing their mouths together hard. They're both breathing heavy by the time they break the kiss, and Jordan moves her swollen lips to Elliot's ear. "Bathroom," she rasps. "Now."

"Why?" Elliot murmurs between pressing light kisses to the side of Jordan's neck. The confusion is evident in her voice.

"It's soundproofed. Duh. Why do think I had that done?"

"Hey!" Elliot pulls back and glares at Jordan indignantly. "You told me it was because you were a nervous pooer!"

Jordan just rolls her eyes. "Do I _seem_ like I would care about other people hearing me doing _anything_?"

"Well, no, but why would you tell me—"

"Because, idiot, I was trying to get into your pants. Yes, I'm a terrible person, blabla, boring. Get in the bathroom."

Elliot doesn't move. Actually, she starts to get that gooey, glowing look on her face that Jordan has come to recognize as a very, very bad sign. "So, wait, you paid all that money to have your bathroom soundproofed just so I'd feel comfortable staying at your place?"

Jordan rolls her eyes for the gazillionth time that evening and contemplates the fact that dating Elliot has probably put her well on the way to developing whatever the eye muscle version of carpal tunnel syndrome is. Elliot almost squeals.

"You did!"

Oh dear God. "Just get in the damn bathroom, Stick!" Jordan snaps, grabbing Elliot's arm with her free hand and dragging her off the bed. When they finally reach their destination and hear the door shut behind them with a satisfying whoosh, Jordan drops the box on the counter and practically lunges at Elliot, who hisses as her skin hits the cool tiles of the rear wall. Jordan smirks as she nips at her earlobe, eases a smooth, toned thigh between Elliot's legs. It isn't a second before Elliot gasps and pushes down onto her with quick little thrusts, and that's all the assurance Jordan needs that she's ready. She lets Elliot keep it up for a moment and slides her tongue wetly along her clavicle before leaning up to press a kiss against her ear. "Turn around."

Elliot must like something about that idea, because her eyes darken and she follows the command without protest. Jordan starts to file that little bit of information away for later use, and then promptly forgets she was thinking anything because Elliot turns to peer over her shoulder and flash Jordan a look that she's never seen before on her. It's hungry and wanting and smoldering and, shit, when Elliot raises her arms, presses her palms flat against the wall and arches her back, Jordan wishes she weren't going to have to fiddle with a bunch of stupid straps before gets to touch her. But, she is, and, as much as she's enjoying the expression on Elliot's face, she'd really rather Elliot not see that part. Fumbling sort of detracts from the whole sexiness element. Well, that and the fact that the cock is friggin' _sparkly and green_. So not her color.

"Ah, ah. Turn around," she admonishes as she reaches for the box. Surprisingly, Elliot chose pretty well. The straps aren't that complicated, and she manages to slide the cock on with relative ease. It looks kind of stupid, she thinks (almost as stupid as it looks on men), but what the hell. It'll be worth it.

She moves behind Elliot without a word, and Elliot gasps when she feels her hands, which, unlike her own, are _not_ icicles, skim along the inside of her thighs. "Spread," she orders, and Elliot complies.

"You want this, Stick?" Jordan teases right before she grimaces at her inadvertently terrible pun. Thankfully, Elliot didn't seem to catch that. Jordan runs the length of the cock lightly—too lightly—between her legs and enjoys her sharp intake of breath, the way she pushes back against her in search of more contact.

"Please," Elliot begs, and Jordan smiles (again, _so easy_ ) as she positions the cock and slowly moves her hips forward until Elliot's gasp turns into a groan. She knows it wasn't a pained sound, but she stops moving anyway. She wants to hear Elliot say it again.

"Please," Elliot repeats, her voice cracking. "Please just…" She hesitates, no doubt searching for the right words. Elliot's never said 'fuck' in front of her, not even in the heat of the moment, and Jordan has made it quite clear that 'frick' and 'bajingo' are never, ever to be said during sex. Ever. So Jordan kind of wonders how she's going to find a way to end that thought.

"…put it in me," she finishes, and there's so much desperation and want in the words that Jordan feels compelled to oblige her. She tries not to be bothered by the fact that Elliot can make her feel obliged to do _anything_ and rolls her hips, slides in until her stomach is flush against Elliot's ass. The cock probably wouldn't do much for her if she weren't sensitive from earlier, but she is. It's rubbing just right, pressing against her clit and sending these little bolts of pleasure into her belly, and Elliot's keening as she shifts back onto it. Yeah, she could get used to this, she thinks as she starts a slow rhythm.

It's too slow, apparently, because it isn't long at all before Elliot's pushing harder, faster. Elliot's left hand finds the shelf on the wall and grips it so firmly that her knuckles are white, and her right squeaks against the tiles with every thrust. Jordan unconsciously tightens her hold on her hips, curling her fingers around the bones that jut out when Elliot slides back onto the cock.

Her skin feels hot and oversensitive, and the muscles in her abdomen jump a little every time the soft trim of the negligee that's ridden up over Elliot's hips brushes her skin. She moves her palm against Elliot's stomach, runs it over the smooth material and up to her breast. When she finds a nipple through the fabric, worries and tugs at is as she thrusts, Elliot hisses and sucks in a shallow breath.

"Legs," she pants. "I can't..."

Jordan sees Elliot trembling against her, feels her legs straining and buckling. "Wuss," she teases, but she takes Elliot by the shoulder and guides her back towards the sink anyway. It's kind of awkward for a second, but Elliot understands her intention quickly enough and manages to bend over the counter relatively gracefully (meaning that she only trips a little on the way). She lets out a little hiss when she lands on the cold marble, but it's replaced quickly enough by a groan as Jordan's hips shift. The angle's changed, and Jordan notices with some amusement that Elliot seems to be enjoying the new one, if the stream of not-quite-obscenities that starts to flow from her lips is any indication.

"Jordan…harder… oh, please, harder… yeah… oh, frick, right there!"

"Hey!" Jordan's palm lands firmly on Elliot's ass. "What did I say about the 'frick' thing?"

Elliot yelps in surprise and tenses for a moment, and Jordan wonders if maybe she went a little too far. Instead, of launching into an indignant tirade, however, Elliot moans and pushes back against the cock. She wiggles her ass and uses a voice that reminds Jordan of the non-German version of the Sweet Little Milk Maid to say, "Oooh, yeah, I've been naughty. Harder."

Jordan can't help but snort as she catches her own bemused expression in the mirror. She wished she could say that this little turn of events shocked her, but this is Elliot she's talking about. Nothing really surprises her anymore, she muses as she brings her palm down again.

"Mm," Elliot murmurs as she moves a hand between her legs. Scratch that about not being surprised. Elliot never touches herself in front of Jordan. Or anyone. Jordan's not even sure Elliot touches herself period, actually.

She seems to know what she's doing, though, and Jordan feels a sharp twinge in her gut as she watches the muscles in Elliot's forearm twitch and strain. Having her like this, bent over, open, squirming and panting as she fucks her…it feels powerful. Unsurprisingly, that does it for Jordan. She feels her muscles tensing as she gets closer, and her thrusts grow more and more erratic as Elliot tightens around her cock.

Elliot moans, "So close."

There's something inexplicably sexy about the way she says it, and, once again, Jordan finds herself wishing they could draw this out more. She doesn't say so. Instead, she grunts, "Come already," as she braces one hand on the counter and grips Elliot's shoulder for leverage with the other. She's not at all impatient about it, but lesson number 485 she's learned about Elliot and sex is that a little bitchiness goes a long way.

Sure enough, it isn't three seconds before Elliot goes rigid against her, keens and gasps and says Jordan's name over and over under her breath. Jordan lets her ride it out before she buries the cock to the hilt, rubbing and thrusting against the base. Almost…

"Yeah," Elliot gasps, pushing back weakly against her. "Come. Come inside me. Please come inside me."

Jordan barely has time to hope that Elliot doesn't follow that with some comment about getting her pregnant or making babies before her orgasm overtakes her. Her hips arch and buck for a long moment before she slumps forward, exhausted.

"No baby-making comments, eh?" Jordan quips when she gets her breath back. "I'm shocked."

"Thought about it," Elliot admits. "But I figured you'd get all weird."

"Yeah," Jordan says, "Because _I_ would be the one being weird in that case. Obviously."

"Shush," Elliot mutters. After a moment long moment, she starts to stand up and hisses a little when the cock slips out of her. She turns to face Jordan. "Um." Her lip is between her teeth, and she has that look that Jordan has come to associate with her being about to say something she is really, really not going to like. "Since it's Christmas and all…"

"Get on with it, Stick."

"…do you think that, maybe, you know, we could cuddle?" she asks, her face bright and hopeful

Jordan rolls her eyes and groans, and Elliot raises her hands quickly. "Just for a few minutes! I promise."

"Fine," Jordan grouses as she kicks off the harness and heads into the bedroom. "Five minutes. But, I swear, if you fall asleep on me, I will personally make sure that Jack directs all his questions about why Mommy and Barbie are naked in bed together to _you_ tomorrow morning. Got it?"

"Crystal clear," Elliot replies. She grins as she flops down on the bed and settles her head against Jordan's chest. "Hey, Jordan?"

"For christsake, _what_?"

"Merry Christmas."

Jordan can't resist the little smile that comes to her face as she brings a hand up to toy with Elliot's hair. "Yeah, yeah."


End file.
